This is how I know I am in trouble: this morning, I was dressed for a class I take at the gym (Les Mills Body Pump). I've been doing it for a year off and on, and since it's a barbell/weight class, I have found myself getting stronger. Of course, no one notices, and I pride myself on the fact that I am totally content just feeling better about myself without any external adulation. Until this morning.
Jack, my six year old, said conversationally, "Mommy, you have big muscles."
Time stood still. Happiness and sunshine welled up deep inside me. I think a blue jay actually chirped in my ear. Every painful clean and press (if you don't know what that is, consider yourself lucky. Flabby, perhaps, but lucky) was suddenly worth it! I had big muscles! I nearly skipped out of the kitchen.
Then I got upstairs and realized I was pathetic. Come on, Julie. The same six year old is fascinated by his weiner for hours. It doesn't take much to please him. Is it that necessary to be complimented? Does it matter that much? Have I traded all the paychecks and bonuses and perks of a real job (courtside seats, baby) for a kid who's probably really thinking, "Crap, she looks like a man"?
Yeah, I have. And yeah, I added a little weight to my barbell during the class. And decided that perhaps I am pathetic, and perhaps compliments mean just a touch more than they should, but so what. I'm 40. I'll take what I can get.